ON THE COVER of his Nutshell Library in 1962, Maurice Sendak posed a memorable visual analogy between a little boy engaged in eating a bowl of chicken soup and an alligator gleefully reading a book. Both activities nourish children, albeit in different ways. Authors of notable children’s books regard their projects with gravity as well as levity, and their youthful audiences with respect. They recall the hot passions and curious puzzlements of childhood. They aim high. In defiance of this wisdom, however, American publishers seem bent on producing a spate of trivial children’s books by celebrities. The nutritive content of most of these books is equivalent to lollipops, and yet they have met with appalling commercial success.
